My partner in crime again was Matt Parker. We claimed to be scouting for deer this day as we rode around in my Chevy S10 Blazer. We were on old Dallas Cooperage land either in Butler or Wilcox County Alabama. I had previously found this piece of property on a plat book and wanted to check it for hunting. I was not mud riding that day, probably did have a gun or two, but do believe we had all our "whits" about us (if you know what I mean.)
Matt and I had been going for miles down dirt roads. We went left the state maintained dirt road (yes there is such a thing for you city folks) and went onto logging roads. The road was in pretty good shape and I was riding along in 2 wheel drive. This was my main mode of transportation at the time and had all terrains on it but really wasn't set up for agressive off roading. I remember stopping on the top of hill in a logging deck and we got out to smoke as we looked things over. I remember getting out the map and telling Matt that the roads is suppose to continue on down that hill and it should come out. Matt gave me one of those looks of concern.
We topped over the hill and I remember seeing huge wash outs in the old logging road that was headed straight down the hill. The slick yellow mud hill had huge areas washed out in it. I hit the brakes of my truck and the truck just slid. Matt said put it in 4 wheel drive. I did and put it in reverse attempting to back up the hill to flat land and safety, but the truck would just spin. I remember Matt saying a couple of curse words as we sat in the truck with a deep, horrible feeling in our stomachs. I haven't really expressed how remote area of an area we were in and this is pre-cell and we hadn't seen as much a mail box in over 5 miles.
We got back in the truck and just did what we could. I went down the hill and road the ruts down to the bottom. We attempted to follow the road that I was sure kept on going but quickly realized the old map was showing a road that was no more. I remember Matt and I were sitting on that old red chevy and road back to the steep upgrade to the top of the hill. I was an optomist and Matt was not but that is sort of what got me in the situation. I looked at the hill and realized that if I hit the hill with enough speed, was lucky enough to ride the ruts and not slip off, that I might make it back to the top of the hill.
Matt got out of the vehicle and stood far off. He knew as deep as the ruts were that it was going to smart if I slipped in. In Nathan Arnold fashion- I started smoking a cigarette and backed the truck up for speed. I hit the hill going at 55 miles per hour. With somebody looking out for me and a whole lot of speed, I slipped up the hill and up the ruts. I think a couple of old sticks help me slide up the hill. My Daddy always threatened to kill me about where I went in that SUV and he had no idea that day.
I can remember a sense of relief and just plain exhaustion as we road home. Matt refused to go back hunting with me there again. I came back but I just parked at the top of the hill the next time. This story probably missed how I always got Matt off into the worst situations and this one ended out fine. I am sorry Matt but it was sure was fun dragging you off into trouble.
